


Out of Focus

by skeletondance



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Age Difference, Dirty Talk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 05:58:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeletondance/pseuds/skeletondance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orange and White try to keep things professional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Focus

**Author's Note:**

> (originally archived on LJ, 2007)  
>    
>  _Update 2016:_ re-wrote the ending and did some editing. 
> 
> Note: I cut the opening where Freddy is with White when he encounters a cop who was a friend of his. He manages to cover it by pretending this guy is part of a gang Freddy runs with. I just felt that that segment didn't work at all, but I wanted to keep the premise.

White throws some money down on the table and makes his way quickly to where Orange is waiting for him at the door. They walk in silence to the car.

White waits until they've pulled out onto the road before speaking.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Orange puts his window down and rests his elbow on the frame. He sits chewing at his thumbnail, the wind buffets his hair back from his forehead.

“You gonna tell me what the fuck all that was about?” White says.

Orange drops his hand from his mouth and shoots White an imploring look.

“Well?” White's not about to let it slide. Orange shifts around in his seat a bit, then says:

“It’s just some guys I been involved with. It’s no big deal.”

White shifts gears, keeps his eyes on the road.

“What's the crew?”

“Huh?”

“These people – who are they? Who's their boss?”

The kid’s mouth hangs open for a second. He scoffs incredulously. “You’re askin me that? You know I can't tell you that shit.”

“You in a bad situation with these guys?”

“No, I’m–” Orange rolls his head aside and looks out the window. “It's like I said, I'm just involved with them. It's a commitment. I’m not tryin to get out of it, there’s no way.”

“Okay,” White says. “Okay.”

Orange goes back to chewing his thumb. White runs his hands over the bow of the steering wheel.

“Look, I'm just saying,” White can’t leave it alone, “might not look that way, but there’s always a choice. You don't want anything more to do with these people, all you have to do is talk to Joe. He can work something out, I'm telling you. Will you think about it?”

“Yeah.”

White glances at his watch. “Time to check back with Eddie.”

*****

When they get to the warehouse, Brown and Nice Guy Eddie are poking around under the hood of a Mustang parked in the shade.

“What do you guys think?” Brown says, waving them round to take a look at the engine. By the time he's through with the yarn of how he got it, they're all sweating through their shirts.

Eddie wipes his forehead with the heel of his hand, wags his cell phone at Larry. “What about you two?”

“Joe was right about security,” Larry says.

Eddie nods to the warehouse. “Come on, Mr White. I gotta give him a call, he'll want to talk to you.”

They leave Orange and Brown with the car and head into the warehouse. It's a relief to get out of the heat. Larry slides his hands into his pockets and looks around at the morose, cavernous interior. 

Eddie's talking to Joe on his cell, telling him about the car, then about some business down the docks. He hands the phone to Larry and goes off to a room in the back and then Larry's got Joe's gravely tones rumbling in his ear. They talk business for a while.

“I didn't get bad vibes,” Larry says. “Place was wide open. You got a good eye for these things.”

“I know I do,” Joe grunts. He doesn't sound happy.

“You're over-thinking it,” Larry says. “It's a clean job. You got a good bunch of guys.”

“I don't need you to tell me that,” Joe gripes.

“Daddy's got a lot on his mind,” Eddie says when they're stepping back outside. He pulls out some keys from his track jacket and locks up behind them. 

Larry glances over to where he left Orange with Brown by the car. The two men are lounging against the new car, heads bent together. Brown is gesticulating animatedly, mid-way through some more bullshit. Orange has his arm hitched up on the car roof, squinting a little like he does, his hip slightly jutted, posture loose and relaxed. Watching the kid, Larry feels a sudden pulse of heat.

“How was he?” Eddie says.

Larry pulls his eyes away. “What?”

“Orange.” There's a calculating look pinching Eddie's boyish features as he looks past Larry, at the kid. “How's he strike you?”

“Seems like a good worker. Learns fast.”

“Yeah?” Eddie says. “We'll see how he handles. Daddy might use him again, depending. We're looking for some regular guys. Don't know if you heard. We lost a couple a few weeks back to those Slovak fucks. Been short ever since. Isn't easy finding good people.”

“Kid could do with some guidance,” Larry says slowly. “He's tied up with something. You know your dad doesn't like us talking, I don't know too much about it. Nothing serious by the sounds of it, probably just some bums leaning on him. It's fucking aggravating to see.”

“Eh. S'the way of the world. He doesn't have much of a rep.” Eddie scratches his ear. “I'll take it to Daddy. We might hold onto him.”

“He's a good kid,” Larry says.

*****

Freddy finds Holdaway drinking a milkshake in a booth at the back of the diner.

“What's the news?” Holdaway says as Freddy drops into the seat opposite.

Freddy fills him in on the work of the last few days. If he's talking about White a lot, it's because he's been paired with the guy.

“You like him,” Holdaway says.

“He's a badass, man,” Freddy laughs.

Holdaway's face is blank. “Yeah?”

Freddy snorts and leans forward across the table, grinning, “He thinks I'm fucking _green_ , man.”

“Good.” Holdaway nods. “That's good. He's your buddy, he wants to take care of you in there, you let him take care of you. You be his best friend.”

Freddy sinks back into his seat, resting back against the booth's padded upholstery. The diner's noisy around them. Freddy picks at the rip in the knee of his jeans.

“I don't know,” he says finally. He passes his hand slowly along the edge of the table, his thumb feeling out a dent in the metal rim. “I got my hooks in the guy, man. It's enough like it is.”

“You think they're still not feelin you out,” Holdaway says, his voice quiet in that way that means Freddy's fucked up. “You got a death wish, my man? You think you're fuckin untouchable?”

“No, no…” Freddy shifts on the red plastic seat. “I just mean. I've got him. I push it any further...” He shoots Holdaway a look from under his brows. “I don't know.” 

“What don't you know.”

Freddy opens his hands. “It's fucking stone cold, man, come on.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Holdaway pushes his milkshake away. “You're not sitting there speaking these fuckin words to me right now. You will end up in a dumpster with your head in a plastic bag next to you, you feel me? You forget who these guys are, you make one single screw up, you break for even one second, drop your guard–”

“Okay, man, I know. I got it.” Freddy rakes his hand through his hair.

Holdaway chills out and drinks some milkshake. 

“You look through those mugs yet?” Holdaway says.

“I will. I haven't had time. I'll do it, don't worry about it.”

“Don't give me reason to worry, man.”

*****

Freddy gets out the diner and makes his way quick along the sidewalk, no idea where he's headed. Evening's coming on and the sky hangs low and luminous, striped with cloud.

He stops on a street corner, sticks his hands in his pockets, stands there for a while, watching the cars go by, feeling the stir of the warm breeze on his face. A heaviness seems to press him into the sidewalk. His breathing is a little labored. Feels like there's a fist clenched in his chest. He lights up a cigarette and starts drawing on it savagely. His mouth's dry.

He rubs a hand across his face.

“Fuck.” He throws the cigarette into the gutter and crosses the street.

*****

Orange almost collides with White on his way down the stairs.

“Hey.” White smiles up at him, surprised, pleased. “You come by to see me? How'd you get here?”

“Subway.” Orange's eyes dart past White.

White moves up onto the step next to him, stands close, studying the younger man's face. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.”

“Come on, let's go up.”

“No. I should go.”

“What do you mean?” White laughs. “You only just got here. Come on, come up and have a drink.” He leads Orange up the stairs and checks the number on the door against his hotel key. “Keep forgetting which fucking room I'm in.”

They get inside and White tells Orange to take off his jacket, relax a little. He fixes them a couple of drinks and hands Orange his glass before lowering himself onto the couch with a sigh.

“Sorry you almost missed me. I had a couple errands to run. Been a while since I was in the area.”

Orange nods, says nothing. He's still standing there with his jacket on.

“I just – couldn't take it in my apartment, I feel like the place is fucking eatin me alive, you know?” Orange laughs thinly. White smiles.

“So what's going on?”

Orange shakes his head.

“This about the job?” White says.

“Huh? No. No way.” Orange walks over to the window, looks down at the street below, walks back again. “I just– Can I ask you something? I know it's work. It's just work. I know that. But I– Shit.” Orange sets his glass down on the table.

White gets to his feet, goes to him. “What is it? Are you in trouble?”

“It's not like that–” Orange backs up. 

“I know what it's like, being in with the wrong people. The sooner you get out, the better.”

The kid's just looking down at the floor.

“You can't tell me right now, I get that,” White murmurs. “After the job. Let me help you out.”

“You don't need to help me, man,” Orange says roughly. He rakes his hand through his hair. “Look, I – I'm sorry, coming by like this. My head's just – fuckin all over the place. I don't know what I'm talking about–”

“Kid...”

“Nah, man. Look, I should – I should get out of here.”

White's stepped close into the kid's space without meaning to.

“What's got you spooked like this?” He catches the kid by the arm because he's trying to avoid his gaze. He touches the kid's chin. “Huh?” The kid looks at White's mouth for a second, looks away fast, freaked out, his eyes darting, but there's no mistaking he looked.

“I - I should -”

“Hey.” White touches the kid's chin again and then the kid's eyes are on him. He's too damn pretty. It's too easy to lean in and press a kiss to his pretty lips.

“We can't do this,” White murmurs. “You know that.”

The kid nods a little, but he leans in and does like White did, and one kiss leads to another, and another. His kisses are ardent, and White should put a stop to it right there, but he's returning each kiss. At the first light touches of the kid's tongue, White can't keep from holding the kid to him, drunk on the way the kid presses close, the way the kid sighs all shaky as the kiss deepens. White runs his hands down his back, following the lean line of him and kid's lips come away from his with a wet little sound and fit back hungrily, the tip of his tongue eases hot into White's mouth. The slight shift and roll of the kid's body and the needy suck of his mouth is talking to White, asking about a good fuck.

White pulls back. “Wait, wait…” against the kid's mouth. He backs off and turns away. He wipes his lips with his fingers. “We can't fucking do this. Not on a job.” He was supposed to be teaching the kid. This wasn't right.

“It's fucking dangerous. For both of us. There's a reason for keeping a distance, particularly on a job like we're about to pull. We can't afford to lose focus here –”

He's cut off by a hand gripping his shoulder, wheeling him sharply around.

“Forget the fucking job,” the kid says.

*****

They stumble into the bedroom. The kid lands heavy on the bed and starts wrestling his jeans down. Larry stands at the foot of the bed, shucks his shirt unhurriedly.

“Take it slow,” he says.

But the kid gets rid of his clothes, looks exposed and reckless as he shifts up the bed. He rests back on the pillows and palms his dick, watching White. 

“Come on.” The glint of his eyes, the restless jack of his loose fist, the bulb of his pretty prick teasingly peeping in and out of his fist, his eyes are hot under his sleepy eyelids his gaze burning steady on Larry.

“You got some place you gotta be?” Larry says once he's over him, drawing kid's hand off and replacing it with his own.

“You let me - take my time,” Larry says between kissing him. The kid's hips roll unevenly, his cock twitching in Larry's fist. Larry jogs his fist lazily, the kid's breath is shocky as they kiss. A spit of precum lands hot and slick on the back of Larry's hand. “Yeah? Just like that?” Larry smiles, kisses the kid's neck to show him it's alright, but the kid's pride won't have it and he's grabbing at Larry's arm and squirming trying sit up.

“Nah - I'm -” The kid's hand goes to White's wrist to stop him. “I'm good.”

“That right.”

“Yeah that's right.” The kid leans up and kisses him, full of braggadocio, a hand round the back of Larry's neck.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." The kid gets up on his elbow under him and makes to reverse their positions until Larry slides his hand side-on into the cleft of the kid's buttocks, rubs his knuckle with slow sensitivity against the tight little twitching asshole and then strokes with his fingertips, and when he takes him by prick again the kid is a lamb, his mouth soft and taken by surprise when Larry kisses him. When they come apart the kid looks down his body to watch how Larry's touching him real nice. The kid's eyes are drowsy as he rocks his hips and fucks Larry's hand. He bites his lip, looks up at Larry as he lets his lip go and it's so plump and red Larry can't help leaning down to suck on it.

Larry's fingers find the kid's asshole again and the kid draws his leg up, his prick jumping on his belly.

Lube from out his suitcase over by the door, his fingers deep in the kid and Larry knows this won't be the only time now, he'll have the kid again more times before the job, once won't be enough no way.

His free hand kneads the kid's tensing thigh while his other hand is busy with working the kid loose, fingers gripped in the kid's asshole so tight there's sucking click of air each time he pulls his fingers back. He pauses to spread more lube on his fingers and when he eases them back in he can't help sweet talking the kid, when the kid's frowning so serious, trying to be tough, trying not to make a sound. The kid's pupils are blown like he's done a line, his ass might as well be virgin he's that tight, and massaging his prostate is making him come apart.

“Fuck-” the kid grits out in a wavering tone, tossing his head, his prick all glossy wet at the slit. "Aw fuck..." His legs are drawn up, his foot braced on Larry's thigh, his hips lifting fitfully, moving in time with the patient slow fuck of Larry's fingers inside him.

He drops his head back, sharp angles of his jawbone, stomach muscles jumping and a sheen of sweat down his neck and chest. He grabs the pillow behind his head suddenly.

"Yeah, come on, baby," Larry murmurs.

The kid seizes up as he orgasms, his cock blurting cum up his belly and chest, his ass clutching strangling tight around Larry's fingers as Larry milks him from inside.

“Only this once,” Larry says roughly, lying to the kid and knowing he's lying as he takes his fingers out and guides kid's knee aside, guides the tip of his prick into the kid's slicked asshole. 

The kid's stoned from his orgasm. Larry holds the backs of the kid's knees slick with sweat, holding him spread and the kid groans, unsure, as Larry eases in deeper. “It's okay, baby,” he soothes him, his voice rough with pleasure.

Larry has to focus on going slow, both of them barely moving, and then when Larry's pelvis is settled in the cradle of the boy's open legs and his prick is in deep and he's letting the kid get used to him. "Fuck. How's that?"

The kid nods, a quick jerk of his chin.

“Yeah?” Larry slides his hands under the kid, cupping his ass, a cheek in either hand, careful and slow he thrusts and the kid grunts and flexes under him, squirming under Larry's body, as Larry starts fucking him slow. The kid gets the feel of it quick, grinding his hips up matching Larry's pace and finally Larry's swearing, slurring, with how good it is, folding the kid's leg to get a deeper angle and the kid's hands clutch at Larry's arms, his shoulders, stunned rough cries shaken from him, his eyes flashing up at Larry round and disbelieving.

“Fuck, baby,” Larry pants. “Like that?”

“Yeah...” The kid's expression is hurt almost, he looks lost, staring glassily up at Larry. “Aw...fuck, aw fuck...” The slap of Larry's prick into him, Larry's balls smacking up against the kid's ass, the hotel room hot and stuffy and full of the sound of it and their breathing and the kid's noises.

“Takin it so good for me,” Larry says reverently and the kid's eyes flutter closed, his lips trembling, he's worked his hand between them and he's fisting his cock frantically as he submits to the deep steady fuck.

"Oh fuck-" the kid whines shakily.

“Fuckin take it like that for me, baby, so good,” Larry grunts, fucking the exquisite tight suck of the kid's ass greedily, stunned with the hot suck of it that seems made to take his prick. “So fuckin good, baby. Take it for me just like that- Just like that, baby-”

He drinks in the sight of the boy's face tensing in ecstasy again, the boy's tight ass submitting to Larry now clenching wildly on Larry's prick, in a frenzy squeezing him, while Larry batters him, sinks deep, and Larry knows this is what he wanted with the kid since he first laid eyes on him, who was he kidding?

“Fuck,” Larry huffs out, right then like he's in love with the kid. “Fuck, baby.” He nails in deep, deep, and it all starts to fall apart.

*****

Freddy swings his legs over the side of the bed and bends for the pack of cigarettes in his jeans pocket.  
He lights one up and passes it to Larry, then gets his own going. Larry strokes his back.

“You're something else, you know that?” Larry sighs.

*****

(The End) 


End file.
